


always.

by abbyli



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, oneshots and drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-02-04 20:23:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18611863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbyli/pseuds/abbyli
Summary: Oneshots and drabbles centered around our favorite couple.[ 1. "you'll stay with me?"/"always." ][ 2. post 8x04, arya and jaime run into each other on the kingsroad ][ 3. continuation, arya returns to winterfell with cersei and jaime's baby ]{ 4. sansa catches jaime trying to leave winterfell ]





	1. "always"

.

.

The ride to Casterly Rock takes four weeks.

Brienne had forgotten how far away the kingdom was from the North, located directly on a very large, well _rock_ right on the coast with it’s docks directly below for trade.

Ser Jaime... _King_ Jaime was there. He didn’t know she was coming, and she had requested that Queen Sansa not send word ahead when she began her journey. They had received a surprising letter from Bronn three days before her departure, asking for her to come as quickly as possible. He wouldn’t specify why in the letter but Brienne could tell that something was wrong.

“You send a raven in case something else happens,” Brienne had instructed the young queen as she mounted her horse. Sansa had nodded in agreement and waved goodbye as she rode from the grounds of Winterfell, keeping her face forward as she looked towards her future.

The last time Brienne had seen Casterly Rock, the castle had been darkened and boarded up tight since the death of Tywin. As she rides through the gates, the guards letting her right in, she sees that it had changed greatly. The towers shined with luster and people moved with ease across the grounds, each happily chattering away at the person next to them.

House Lannister was back to it’s former glory.

Since the end of the war, the kingdoms had gone independent. Cersei and Tyrion Lannister had each fallen and when the snow cleared, her dear companion had realized that he now had a kingdom to run. He had begged her to come with him, but she had refused because of her oath to Queen Sansa and Princess Arya. 

But now, _now,_ Arya was off with her new husband traveling the world and Sansa was busier than ever with rebuilding the North. Brienne had left Pod behind with her, knowing that the young squire was perfectly capable of protecting the queen in her absence and that was all she could ask for.

“Ser Brienne of fucking Tarth, how the hell are you?”

Brienne’s hand instinctively grips the hilt of Oathkeeper and she manages a wry smile for Bronn as he trots up. “Quite well, thank you. The North sends good tidings.”

“Well the West returns them,” Bronn responds, grinning stupidly at her. There’s something else reflected back in his eyes that she cannot quite put her finger on. Was it...relief?

He waves his hand, signaling her to follow him and she does. “All right you have me here. What is the matter? Is ser Jaime – I mean, his grace all right?”

Bronn doesn’t answer until they get around a corner and Brienne sees they are in a small alley way that is littered with street shops. Someone’s selling apples next to them and she can hear the clucking of chickens about ten feet down. No one will hear what Bronn is about to say but her. “He’s ill. Quite ill actually, but he refuses to stop working and to rest.”

Brienne’s heart starts beating loudly in her throat. “Is he --?”

Bronn shakes his head. “He’s not dying. But he will start heading that way soon. The only two people that could actually get him to stop were his brother...and you.”

“So you brought me all the way down here to be the king’s caretaker?” Brienne asks, eyebrows raised.

“No of course not,” Bronn scoffs. “But if you don’t manage to get him to knock off this hero horseshit that he’s trying, the Rock won’t have a king anymore and our pretty sweet little place will turn into another Kings Landing. Now do you want that?”

Brienne growls in annoyance under her breath. “No, of course not.” She glances at the man through her lashes and longing wins out over her irritation. “Where is he?”

-;

Bronn disappears as soon as she finds herself standing outside Jaime’s solar.

“Coward,” Brienne hisses. She takes a deep breath, staring at the door in front of her for a solid two minutes, feeling quite cowardly herself. _Just knock, Brienne!_ She had faced down death many times over but now she’s afraid to knock on a bloody door. Taking another breath, she lifts her hand and knocks.

A beat and then she hears his voice for the first time in seven months.

“Enter.”

Her hand is shaking as she pushes the door open and steps in. Jaime doesn’t look up from his desk, his head bowed over several papers spread out in front of him. “Bronn, I told you a thousand times –“

“It’s not Bronn, your grace.” He freezes, eyes still on the papers. “It’s me.”

He looks up slowly, eyes wide as he takes her in. Brienne suddenly feels very small under that gaze, very overwhelmed and for some stupid reason, there are tears in her eyes.

But when they clear, then she sees why Bronn sent for her.

Jaime looks like he did when they were traveling together all those years ago. Honestly seems like a lifetime had passed since then. His hair’s longer, hanging in his eyes and a beard covers his gaunt cheeks and a chin more pointed then before. He’s had to have lost at least thirty pounds since she had seen him last and the prosthetic seems to be slipping on his wrist.

He flies out of the chair and she’s laughing when they crash together and she tries not to pay attention to the fact that her arms completely go around him now. They end up wedged together on the window seat before he finally pulls away, hand coming up to rest against her face. “W-when?”

“Just now,” she smiles, leaning into his touch. His hand is scalding hot and practically burns her face.

“I don’t – I don’t understand. You said that you needed to stay in the North. W-why? Why are you here? Not that I’m not delighted, I mean –“ his babbling is cut off by Brienne gently covering his hand with hers. “ –Brienne?”

Brienne hesitated for a moment. “Bronn sent for me.” She almost laughs at the surprised look on his face. “Despite being an insufferable horse’s ass, he was worried about you.” Jaime _hmmphed_ in annoyance and this time she does laugh. “Don’t be angry.”

“I’m not angry,” Jaime grumbles, gently pulling away to fold his frighteningly thin arms in front of his even thinner chest. “He needs to learn how to mind his own business.”

“For once I am glad he didn’t,” Brienne shifts forward on the seat and places her hand on his wrist where the golden hand lays. A small cry of surprise leaves her lips when feels the heat on her fingers. Her hand immediately goes up to his forehead and he tries to pull away. “Jaime you have a fever.”

“It’s just a summer illness –“ To prove him a liar, Jaime begins to cough loudly. “I swear, I’m fine.”

“You’re not a good liar, Jaime Lannister,” Brienne eases up so she is kneeling in front of him. “This is why Bronn sent for me, isn’t it?” Her hand rests at his wrist as his gaze burns into the top of his head. “How long has it been since you’ve taken this off?” She’s almost afraid to pull at the laces holding the hand to his arm. “Your grace?”

“Jaime,” he whispers. She lifts her gaze. “None of that ‘your grace’ business. You know that.”

“ _Jaime,”_ she breathes. “How long?”

He swallows loudly before answering. “I don’t remember.”

Brienne undoes the laces with quick ease, gritting her teeth as she begins to pull the hand down. Jaime hisses in pain and Brienne swallows back a groan. “Oh _Jaime...”_

“I think it’s infected.”

Brienne bites down hard on her bottom lip, her eyes taking in the damage. The stump where his hand used to be is inflamed, the skin broken on the end where a few droplets of blood are leaking down, mingling with oozing green pus. She’s glad she has a strong stomach or else she’d be heaving it’s contents up right now at the horrid smell. She glances up at him, tears burning her eyes. “ _Why?”_

He doesn’t answer.

Brienne gets to her feet and walks over to the solar door, opening it to find a maid walking by right at that moment. The maid accepts her order of towels and warm water with some salve, returning moments later with the items in her arms. She bows to Jaime before leaving, quietly shutting the door behind her.

“You’re lucky,” Brienne says, busying herself with preparing the salve. “There’s no sign of blood poisoning, or else you might lose more of your arm.” He looks up at her at that and she knows she got his attention. When she kneels before him again, she carefully dips the cloth into the warm water. “This is going to hurt.”

“Can’t be worse than anything I ever felt before,” he whispers. Brienne gets the sense he’s not just talking about his hand. Jaime barely makes a sound as she works, cleaning the wound off and then gently applying the salve before wrapping it up with cloth. “Thank you.”

Brienne gets up then. “You’re welcome. You should rest.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. There’s a slew of ships coming in tomorrow to begin trade and I need to oversea the grain production and –“

“Don’t you have advisors? Someone who can go in your place?”

“Uh...”

Brienne raises a brow. “You’ve been doing all of this all by yourself?” When Jaime begins to stare at the floor again, Brienne groans. “I should have known. Stubborn lion, trying to kill himself time and time over –“

“That’s _not_ it!” he snaps.

“Then what is?” Brienne retorts. “You _are_ king, yes. But the Rock needs to _keep_ you for at least a few years. And it might not be able to do that if you kill yourself!”

Jaime gazes at her for a moment. “I’m not trying to kill myself.”

“Maybe not. But you’re not doing anything to help yourself either. Your grace –“ Jaime winces at the term but she plows on. “ – your _grace_ , all of this is _not_ your responsibility.”

“I am aware of that, _Ser_ Brienne!” Now it’s her turn to wince. And Gods be damned, _why_ is she crying? “In case you haven’t noticed, there is no one else _here_ to help. I am alone! My family is dead! My children are dead! There is no one else here to do this but me! And you! You --!” His voice breaks and Brienne blinks away with the tears in her eyes. “You let me leave.” His face turns redder than it was before and her heart tears. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re right.”

“You don’t deserve me shouting,” Jaime tries to get up then and nearly staggers. She pushes him back down and grabs the chair in front of his desk, dragging it over to sit in it. “Brienne, I’m sorry.”

“No, _no._ I’m sorry,” She takes his other hand and his thumb curls around hers. “I can speak to Queen Sansa. She can send some of her advisers down and they can help. You are a friend of the north, you can ask –“

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Brienne says and when he looks up, she’s smiling softly. “But I want too. Please. Let me help.”

He smiles too. “All right.”

“Splendid! I will write the queen in the morning. But first, you have to sleep.”

“What – _whoa!”_ She pulls him right up to his feet and he groans dramatically. “Did you really have to do _that?”_

Brienne chuckles. “ _Aye._ Now, your grace –“ She’s only calling him that now just to piss him off. One of her favorite past times. “ – where are your chambers?” At Jaime’s lifted brow she rolls her eyes. “You are to _rest.”_

“You’re no fun, Ser Brienne.”

“I do try my best.”

His laughter is a beautiful sound.

-;

His fever rises during the night.

A maester is called and Brienne follows his instructions closely on what to do, which isn’t much. “We have to wait it out, Ser. His body is fighting off the infection from his arm.”

“But isn’t there something you can do?”

“Keep applying cool clothes and trying to get a little bit of broth into him,” the maester tells her gently. The old man pats her hand. “Your king is a fighter. He will survive a little fever.”

Brienne doesn’t sleep much that night, constantly changing the cool clothes and checking the bandages on his wrist. True to the maester’s word, the fever begins to dip at daybreak.

“Brienne?”

Her eyes fly open, and she untwists herself from the vastly uncomfortable chair she had somehow fallen asleep in. Jaime’s gazing at her, his green eyes soft but still immensely tired and her heart about sings in relief and joy. “Thank the gods. How are you feeling?”

“Weak,” he licks his lips. “Water?”

She picks the cup up off of the side table and helps him drink a few sips. “Not too much, drink it nice and slow.”

He does as she instructs and then she carefully replaces the cup back on the table. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Just the night. The maester said that your body was burning off the infection.” There’s a quaver in her voice that she tries to ignore. “Jaime, I –“

His hand closes around hers and that’s enough to send her right over the edge. “I’m here,” he whispers. “It’s all right.”

Brienne blinks hard against the tears rising in her eyes. “No, no it’s not. _Don’t_ ever do that again, do you hear me?” Jaime lifts a brow in surprise. “Don’t you dare. D-don’t – don’t leave. Don’t leave me.”

Ugh, she hates this. She hates feeling so vulnerable, that is not who she is. She’s a knight, a knight of the North and a knight of Tarth and here she is crying over a _Lannister._

Her Lannister. Her Jaime.

And now she’s sobbing like a child. Of _course._

Jaime’s arms come up and curl around her, pulling her right into the bed with him. Her tears continue to fall, soaking his neck. Her fist curls in his night shirt and she gives a sharp tug, more sobs cracking her throat. “Don’t l-leave m-me. Don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” he promises. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” His fingers rub gentle circles in the center of her back and he kisses the top of her head, gently pushing her blond hairs from her forehead. “I swear it.” Her sobs cease into wet sniffles and he holds her still. “Stay with me.”

“What?” she lifts her head to stare into his haggard face.

“Stay,” he whispers again. “Stay here. Be...be my queen.”

A few more tears leak out but Brienne’s smiling again. “Jaime, you know that’s not who I’m meant to be.”

“I don’t care,” he mutters bitterly. “I want you stay. Please. Be here with me, don’t go back to the North. I can’t – I can’t lose you again.”

“Jaime, that’s not – can you see me ruling a country?” At his silence, she does laugh. “See, I told you.”

“Then what? You’re not leaving. I won’t let you. You’d be lucky if I let you leave this bed.”

Brienne ignores the flame of heat in her stomach. “Is that something you should really be saying on your sick bed?”

Jaime scoffs. “Fuck that. Whatever it takes to get you to stay.”

She licks her lips. “Well, the king does need a sworn sword?”

Jaime’s eyes light up and she laughs along with him as he pulls her back into his arms, pressing soft kisses to her cheek and neck. “You’ll stay with me?”

“Of course I’ll stay with you,” she mumbles into his neck. “I’ll stay with you always.”

A voice rings out from the other side of the door. “ _Fucking finally!”_

“Go away Bronn!”

 

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**FIN** _

.

.


	2. "you bloody fool,"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Arya run into each other on the Kings Road and have it out with surprising results.

 

.

.

“You _fool.”_

Jaime froze at the voice, inwardly chiding himself for not hearing her soft footsteps behind him.

“You bloody moronic _fool.”_

He rose to his feet, tucking the wineskin back inside his cloak, and turned. For the first time ever, he saw the assassin that tiny Arya Stark had turned into and his eyes quickly gage where her weapons are. Her hands are empty but still gripped into fists and looking like she would so dearly love to knock his block right off.

“What are you _doing_ here?”

Jaime blinked and took a cautious step back but not too far so he didn’t end up in the pond that he had just gotten water from. “I might ask you the same question, Lady Stark.”

Arya groaned at the term. “Why aren’t you home? _Why_ are you here?”

Home. Huh. Funny word for the littlest Stark to choose for someone like him. He looks away, finding a fascinating tree to stare at as he doesn’t answer.

And then Arya kicks him really hard in the knee.

“What the – _fuck –“_

There’s laughter coming from the trees but Jaime doesn’t pay too much attention to that as he rubs at his bruised knee and of course his pride. Still hunched over, he lifts his gaze to glare up at the Stark girl but she doesn’t look abashed at all. “You need to turn your stupid ass around and go home.”

“Why do you keep calling it that?” he hisses, straightening up. By damn of the gods, he will have the height advantage over this terrifying child. “Your home, not mine.”

Arya laughs coldly. “Bullshit. Did you think you were the least bit subtle, Jaime Lannister?”

“Wha – _oh.”_ Heat immediately flushes his cheeks and down the back of his neck. Arya’s glaring at him but she does have a small smile on his face. “ _So?_ What business of that is yours?”

“Oh please, the whole castle could hear the two of you. After that first day I saw you two in the Great Hall and you followed Brienne around like a direwolf pup. So tell me again, _why are you here?”_

“The same reason you are.”

“That’s not – _oh.”_ Arya’s mouth falls closed but she still glares up at him in irritation.

He takes his chance. “And _you.”_ Arya blinks, and this time she’s the one to take a step back. “You really think you and the _Hound_ are gonna break into Kings Landing all by yourselves?”

He hears another snort and the Hound lumbers out from behind the trees. “He’s got ya there, lass.”

“Shut _up,_ Sandor!”

The hound doesn’t blink at Arya’s snarl, only folding his arms and lifting a brow in amusement.

“You had a guy, a good one, offering you the world on a plate and you say _no?”_ Jaime growls and Arya’s hand goes to the hilt of her sword. “Put that away little girl.” He makes sure she meets his gaze. “You know I’m right.”

“You’re _not,”_ she whispers through gritted teeth. “You have no _idea_ –“

“You think I don’t?” Jaime retorts angrily. “You think I don’t understand how it feels to be tied to something so dark and so deadly and you will never be free of it until you blot that darkness out yourself?” Arya blinks in surprise but says nothing. Jaime continues on, his tongue completely betraying him. “You found that light at the end of the gods be damned tunnel and you turned around to go back into the darkness, didn’t you? And so did I.”

“And the reasoning for it is what?” Arya asks him. “To go back to _her_ and leave behind someone who made you the happiest you have been in your whole life?” She gasps suddenly at the words coming out of her own mouth. “Oh Gods.”

“You two are bloody twats, you know that?” The Hound’s glaring at them like he’d definitely enjoy stringing them up from the nearest tree. “Are we going to stand around here arguing until the sun goes down or is one of us going to head back down the Kingsroad to kill the Lannister bitch?”

“Wait a minute –“ Arya flips her furious gaze back at him. “You’re going to kill her?”

Jaime feels his face redden again. “I hope I don’t have too.”

“In what world do you think your sister would treat peacefully?” Arya asks. Jaime shudders, staring at a fascinating blade of grass by his left foot. “Just until the babe is born.”

Jaime nods, flinching at the words. “How about you? Do you really expect to come back from this alive?”

“I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?”

Arya’s smiling when he looks back at her and he can only imagine what Ned Stark must be thinking in whatever afterlife awaits. “Then what do you suggest, Lady Stark?”

“Let me do it,” she says. “It will another month before we get there and into the red keep. Perhaps the babe will have been born by then. Perhaps...” The unsaid words hang heavy in the air.

_Perhaps there is no babe at all._

“I will protect your child and bring him back to you and Brienne.”

Even the Hound gasps. To Jaime’s dismay he feels tears burning behind his eyes that he hastily blinks away.

“And then that babe can grow up safe and loved and protected. But you must do me one favor, Ser Jaime.”

“What’s that?”

“Protect my sister. Stop my brother from doing any more stupid shit. Do what you can to keep them all up there in the North. Let me end this once and for all.”

For the first time in a lifetime, Jaime feels hope swelling in his chest.

“Swear it by the Gods, Ser Jaime.”

He does, going down to his knee and laying his sword in front of her. He knows this is not tradition, not completely correct, but he doesn’t really give a fat flying fuck anymore.

“Arise, Ser Jaime.”

He does as he’s told and Arya gives him another smile before turning to go and rejoin the Hound. “You promise me something, my lady.” Arya stills but says nothing. “Come back alive. I don’t think I can stand your Baratheon boy’s moping too much longer.”

Arya laughs and the Hound swears again.

.

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wanted a parallel of Jaime swearing himself to Arya to mirror Brienne swearing herself to Sansa but alas, we cannot have nice things can we? 
> 
> To sum this up, I believe Arya came back to Winterfell after three more months with a tiny baby girl on her chest and Brienne was the first person to hold the little girl.


	3. "elyna"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya returns to Winterfell with Jaime and Cersei's baby in tow.

Sansa spots her first.

The gates had hardly opened before her sister is charging through the muck and the mud, lifting her long skirts up so she doesn’t fall flat on her face. Not very queen like, Arya would have said before laughing at her. But of course, that does not happen.

Sansa skids to a stop when she sees the baby on Arya’s chest.

Arya dismounts her horse as carefully as she can without jarring the little girl, gently keeping one hand behind her soft curls as she slides to the ground. Sansa’s blue eyes are wide with shock and she lifts a shaking hand. “Did you --?”

Arya flinches at the unspoken words and quickly shakes her head. “No, of course not.”

Sansa creeps forward to get a closer look at the babe. “What happened?”

“By the time I got there, she was dead and _she_ was here,” Arya whispers. The baby sleeps on, oblivious to the rolling world around her. Arya cannot help the smile that leaks onto her face and she lifts a hand to stroke at her round cheek. “Apparently, this little one finished my list for me.”

Now Sansa flinches. “Oh gosh, _Arya...”_

Arya thinks about the bloody birthing bed. She can’t help it. She’s killed men, many, many men but that is the thing that sticks in her brain. There had been so much... _blood._ And then the dead woman in the middle, Arya wondered how long she had breathed life after bringing another one into the world.

She thought the babe was dead. The babe was so still on the bed, not even wrapped up and Arya lifted up the blanket to cover her.

The moment she had turned away, the babe had given a mighty cry of life.

And that had been enough for her.

Cersei had thought of everything and Arya needn’t have looked long for supplies for the child. After wrapping the child up in thick blankets, Arya had stuffed whatever she could find into her pack and slipped from the castle and from the city under the cover of night.

Sandor had fallen in that battle against his brother so she traveled faster, quicker. The babe hadn’t given much trouble on her ride back North, whimpering only for food and eating her fill before falling back into a deep sleep. As they went along, Arya found herself examining the child’s features, searching for some sign of the murderous lioness that had birthed her.

And found none.

“She doesn’t look like her,” Sansa whispered, seemingly reading Arya’s thoughts. “She’s...beautiful.” To Arya’s surprise her sister gently brushed a curl back from the child’s forehead. The touch was featherlight but still enough to wake the child, who blinked owlishly up at Sansa with emerald eyes. But these eyes...these eyes didn’t have the same hardened green that Cersei’s had. She could see flecks of gold within the irises, and already so much goodness was there.

“Where are they?” Arya murmured, readjusting her hold on the child. Goodness, she swear the little one had gained her body weight during their trip.

Sansa knew who she meant. “Brienne is resting. She was up late helping with the final rebuilding. Jaime is out with Gendry and the others hunting. He should be back within the hour.” She nods towards the castle. “Go. I’ll see to your horse.”

Arya smiled, easing the child into a more comfortable position in her arms, stopped only by her sister’s voice. “Come on, wee one. Let’s go find your momma.”

“Arya?” she turned to look at her sister. “I’m so proud of you.”

Stubborn tears leak into her eyes. Arya bites her lip and nods, resuming her walk up to the castle. 

-;

Arya hears nothing at first when she gets to Brienne and Jaime’s quarters. She presses her ear to the door and then nearly falls forward when the door suddenly opens and Brienne’s looking down at her wearing nothing but a long deep blue housecoat. “Lady Arya? When did you --?” And then she sees the babe. “Oh gods.”

Brienne steps back to allow her into the room and shuts the door behind her. “A girl,” Arya says. “She’s strong. Very strong.”

Brienne’s eyes remain focused on the babe, her gaze almost longing. “Where’s ...?”

“Dead,” Arya glances back down at the babe. “This one beat me too it.” Brienne has the same reaction that Sansa did and there’s that familiar flush of guilt in her chest. “Would you...would you like to hold her?”

Brienne licks her lips before answering, “Very much, yes.” Arya smiles and Brienne sits beside her on the bed, arms held out like she’s going to accept a sack of potatoes. “Just relax, Brienne.” Arya enjoys the momentary flush on the other woman’s face as she gently eases the babe into her arms. The sight after is pretty hilarious though, she doesn’t think she’s ever seen Brienne of Tarth look so frightened in all of her life. “She’s not going to break.”

“I know that!” Brienne bit back, blushing to the roots of her hair. “She’s –“ When she looks down, all the stress seems to ease from her bones and she practically slumps in her seat. “Oh seven hells...”

Arya laughs softly, flicking her thumb across the babe’s cheek. “She’s got that effect, doesn’t she?”

Brienne sighs. “She sure does.” The horns are blowing outside again. “That will be Jaime.”

Arya knows that it’s time to take her leave. To the surprise of herself and Brienne, she leans down and brushes a feather light kiss to the baby’s brow, quickly leaving before she’s caught there. 

-;

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saving her life.”

Arya glances sideways at the man beside her. “Your girl did it herself.”

Jaime sighed, having not looked once at her. His eyes remain trained on the woman standing with their queen, the tiny babe strapped to her chest as they both examined her with identical smiles on their faces.

“You gave her a good name, I hope?”

“Elyna,” Jaime replied, his voice so soft that Arya had to strain to hear him.

Arya bit her lip. “A fine name.” They both remained quiet for a moment, the sounds of the workers in the courtyard reaching their ears but easily drowned out by the first real laugh from sweet Elyna. “Don’t raise her with your name but let her know her history. She deserves to know.” Jaime makes a small noise beside her. “But raise her with goodness. With love.”

Only then does Jaime look at her. She notices that he no longer has the golden hand, replaced by a simple curved hook that only Gendry could have made. He rests his left on his heart and bows his head just slightly. “On my honor.”

And for the first time ever, Arya believes him.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elyna: Sun Ray, Shining, Form of Eleanor, Variant of Helen, Brightness, Mercy, Torch, Moon Elope, Moon
> 
> I thought it was only fitting. :)
> 
> I feel like Elyna would grow up with Arya as one of her fiercest protectors. Of course she'd have to get in line because her parents are the knights and her auntie Sansa is the freaking queen, but yeah. :) 
> 
> Elyna has many meanings, but it is a form of Helen, which means Light. And I thought it worked quite well, because in my head Jaime chooses the name and it's after the woman that saved him (Brienne) but also a representative of the hope that is now present. 
> 
> I've finished my ramble. Thanks again!


	4. "love comes softly"

“What are you doing?” 

Jaime froze, his hands on Honor’s saddle. The Stark girl’s voice is dripping with irritation and maybe even a hint of disappointment. He’s not completely sure with that, but he wouldn’t be surprised. Many people are disappointed with him. “It’s cold out here, my lady.” 

Sansa wrapped her coat more tightly around her, raising herself up to her full height. Her hair flames even in the low light and her blue eyes so like her mother’s flash. “Tell me right now, what are you doing?” She doesn’t give him a chance to speak, plowing on. “If you are going to join your sister, then I –” 

“ _No,”_ he spit angrily, turning on his heel to glare at the young woman. “No, of course not.” 

“Then what are you doing? Like you said, it’s too cold out for an evening horseback ride.” 

His gaze flickers to the ground. “I’m hoping to catch up with your sister.” 

Sansa blinked in surprise, her mouth going slack. “Are you  _insane?”_

 _“_ My lady -” 

“Ser Jaime, you rode all this way just to get away from Cersei, and now you want to give up the one good thing that you have to go and and try too -” 

“I’m the only one that can get through!” he snaps. “I’m the only one that can get through the city and back to her.” 

“You don’t know that!” Sansa retorted. “She sent someone to kill you and your brother!” Jaime sighed. Of course Tyrion opened his big mouth. When he glances back to Sansa, she’s peering at him like he’s something she found crawling by her foot. “Is this about Brienne?” 

“No.” 

“If you’re riding off to sacrifice yourself because you believe –” Her voice cut off and she gasped. “ - it  _is!”_ Jaime shushes her but she pays him no mind. “If you believe you are not good enough for her, don’t you think that is Brienne’s choice to make?” 

That gets him. He stares at her open mouthed for probably a good minute, and Sansa smiles at him triumphantly. “You are such a fool,” she tells him but her tone is softer, almost affectionate and his heart tears in his chest. She glances back at him with a bit of longing in her eyes and he suddenly feels like the fool she had just called him. “I don’t like you Ser Jaime. I don’t think I ever will. But I…trust you.” She laughs a little. “Gee I never thought I would say that but I guess it’s true. I trust Brienne, I trust her judgement  _and…_ I trust her love.” 

A soft sound that feels like a mix between a gasp and a sob breaks his mouth and he has to turn away, gripping the horn of Honor’s saddle like a vice. 

“I used to think love came like the songs, with the strong knights and the fair ladies,” Sansa’s eyes are not on him now, her gaze far off into a world that he cannot see. “But that’s not true is it?” She smiles. “Love just comes softly.” When her eyes return to his, he sees no judgement. “Go back to your chambers, Ser Jaime. I will see you in the morning.” 

She’s gone then, disappeared into the night like the wolf and he’s alone, wondering if she was ever there in the first place. 


End file.
